


all I really want to do (to love you)

by youngerdrgrey



Category: Revenge (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Season/Series 04, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/youngerdrgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 4x01, Emily says, “You don’t need to keep coming over here to check on me.”<br/>Inspired by Emily’s line about Jack checking up on her in 4x01 and the six month gap between s3 and s4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all I really want to do (to love you)

**Author's Note:**

> In 4x01, Emily says, “You don’t need to keep coming over here to check on me.” I couldn’t resist the opportunity to write some moments for that.
> 
> The title (To Love You) comes from “If It Kills Me” by Jason Mraz, but more specifically, the line _all I really want to do is to love you, a kind much closer than friends use, and I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through._ My Jack/Emily senses start tingling every time I hear it.

The night she moves in to the manor Jack shows up with Carl and a six pack of Sam Adams. He shifts a little on the porch when she opens the door, but he stands his ground as best as he can.

“Jack….” 

Her words come out more like a warning than a greeting. As much as she appreciates having him around, he gets that there’s a line between what’s appropriate and what’s crossing into dangerous territory.

That’s part of why he has Carl with him. Nothing’s going to happen if he has his kid there. Of course, having Carl with him also means he has no reason to leave. He could stay the whole night and keep her company from the demons residing in the old Grayson Manor. God, he wants to call it something different. He’s not sure what exactly since Emily’s house will always be the little house down the beach from here, but maybe Nolan will come up with something to call the manor that’s a little less… haunting.

Emily steps aside with her hand still on the door. It’s about as much of an invitation as he thinks he’s getting tonight, so Jack steps on in to the little entranceway.

“You don’t have to do this,” she tells him.

He shrugs and lifts the bottles up as high as he can. “I wasn’t sure if we were celebrating. Besides, if I’m gonna really be a cop, I’ve gotta work on drinking like them.”

She closes the front door but doesn’t move away from it.

“You have no trouble drinking, Jack.”

It’s almost a dismissal, so he goes for a more honest approach to get her on board.

“True, but it’s better with company.” He grins, and her eyes soften a bit. Her hand drops from the doorknob. He hoists the snoring Carl up a little higher. “Come on, you’re not going to kick out your sleeping godson, are you?”

Her eyes narrow almost playfully. “You shouldn’t use Carl like this.”

“Whatever gets me in the door.”

Not that he’s ever had a problem with Emily letting him in, not superficially at least. She might not share her whole story with him, or even tell him what’s bugging her half the time, but she always lets him close enough to offer her some comfort.

She’s got to need that right now, right? Jack can’t imagine what it must be like to officially own the same house that belonged to the people who framed her dad, or to own the house that they practically held her hostage in after Daniel tried to kill her. That’s got to mean that she won’t be the infallible Emily Thorne in here; she’ll be the wavering, emotionally questionable, endlessly searching young woman she seemed to be when they bumped into each other in the park three years ago. The same girl who stared at Jack as if he was the answer to every question she ever wanted to know and the end of everything she ever thought all at the same time.

Jack blinks to bring himself back into the moment. All of that thinking, those cycles of wanting and wishing and wondering, that’s exactly what he wants to keep Emily from doing, hence the beers.

Emily shakes her head at him but holds a hand out anyway. He hands her the six pack. She leads the way out of the entrance and towards the main sitting room. Jack would follow, but Carl shifts again in his arms, reminding him of another step in this whole process.

“I’ll just put Carl down somewhere,” he says.

Emily turns over her shoulder and points up the staircase. “You remember where Charlotte’s room is? He can lay in there.”

Charlotte’s room, she says, not Charlotte’s _old_ room because naturally Emily hasn’t accepted the fact that the room that kept her sister safe for nearly seventeen years isn’t more than a few walls and a bed to Charlotte now. The youngest Grayson — the youngest Clarke — has an apartment that none of them have ever seen, or probably ever will see since she’s not talking to any of them.

Jack heads up the steps with a nod Emily’s way. He gets to the top of the stairs before he hears her heels click down the hallway. 

She shouldn’t be in heels when she’s home. He can’t get over the fact that she takes the time to slip them on before opening the front door. That means she’s still in attack mode even now that it’s been weeks since Victoria went away and Conrad died and she won this whole battle of revenge. He can’t just go home when Emily doesn’t even really have one. He’ll work on that. 

At the very least, he’ll get her to kick her shoes off when they’re drinking. Let her feet breathe and her body relax. Nothing’s going to happen with him there, and if it does, what’s the worst anyone could do? He’s a cop in training, and she’s a trained ninja warrior with access to a billionaire tech tycoon. Speaking of Nolan, shouldn’t he be in the house somewhere?

The manor’s design definitely has more patterns than Emily would choose for herself. It’s nice anyway, a new look to help erase the memories of Victoria plotting, and Conrad conspiring to kill Amanda, and — oh, there it is, the balcony spot where Amanda fell over the railing and nearly lost Carl, not to mention her own life.

Jack holds Carl a little tighter. That’s the goal, sustain some new memories, a new feel, and hopefully this new Emily who jokes and smiles and meets his eyes without drifting away into that mourning place for Aiden.

The door to Charlotte’s room is closed when Jack gets there, but it doesn’t stick so obviously it’s been opened a few times. Everything’s the same in there. Vanity with a jewelry box where Charlotte used to put her pills, corner of the room with toys from last minute babysitting ventures, and the big bed in the center with a dozen pillows of varying sizes.

Jack moves Carl’s weight more onto his shoulder and tugs a few of the smaller pillows down to the middle of the bed so they can make a little barrier fort around where Carl’s going to go. He lowers Carl down onto the bed, then adds a few more pillows around the little guy to make sure that Carl doesn’t roll off the bed in his sleep.

Once his son’s all boxed in, Jack almost laughs. 

His kid napping in Grayson Manor? Plus half these pillows have French phrases on them that neither of them understand.

If Charlotte were talking to him, Jack would send her a picture. He somehow doubts that would go over too well at this point. He pulls out his phone to snap one anyway. For later. Even if it’s just to show Emily while they unwind.

Photo taken, Jack pockets his phone and turns back towards the door. He jumps once he does. Nolan’s there, leaning with one shoulder in the threshold and a thoughtful tilt to his head.

“Shit,” Jack breathes. He clenches and unclenches his fists. Glances to where Carl’s still asleep and hopefully not absorbing Jack’s bad language. Then he looks back to Nolan who doesn’t seem the least bit apologetic for the scare. “I didn’t know you were here,” Jack says.

Probably not the best choice of words since it makes Nolan grin.

“You’d prefer if I wasn’t?” Nolan teases. He doesn’t give Jack the time to respond, instead standing up to his full height in the doorway. “No need to worry, Captain Porter. I’ll make myself scarce.”

Scarce for what? This isn’t — Jack’s not here for Emily like that. Not tonight anyway. He just doesn’t want her to feel alone, or confused on her first night here. He wants to remind her who she is and the best parts of that, so she doesn’t lose herself to anything else.

Jack should say that. He should put it in words, but all he really comes up with is “I’m not captain of anything anymore, Nolan.”

The little smirk on Nolan’s face says otherwise. Like he’s two seconds away from saying that Jack’s still captaining the Amanda in his heart, or that Emily’s heart is like a ship, or some stupid romantic nonsense that’s not okay when Emily’s still mourning Aiden’s death.

Jack understands what it’s like to lose someone you love; he would never want to do anything to mess up that process for Emily. He can’t let their one real shot at this be a rebound.

“No matter what,” Nolan says, grin overtaking his smirk, arms raising into mock submission, “I’ll be decorating my room all night, so I won’t be downstairs that much. And if Carl wakes up, Uncle Nolan’s only a few feet away.”

Nolan’s still smiling, like he’s giving his permission or setting them up or something. It’s like those first few weeks of friendship all over again.

“Whatever, man. I’ll save you a beer.”

Jack walks from the bed to the door. Nolan doesn’t step out of the frame at first. He just kind of stares at Jack, like he’s searching for something. Jack fights the urge to fidget, or push around his friend. Maybe this is some part of Nolan’s mourning, or Nolan’s readjustment, or something. The guy’s always been hard to read emotionally. Jack just hopes that Nolan understands that this isn’t some ploy to get to Emily. He isn’t trying to make her into who he wants her to be, or push her into something she isn’t ready for. He’s a friend, looking out for another friend, who just so happens to be the girl he’s been waiting for his whole freaking life.

Nolan nods and steps back out of the way.

“No need,” Nolan says, “on that beer. I’ve got a bottle of wine chilled to perfection waiting for me beside my laptop. You two enjoy yourselves.”

With that, Nolan turns and heads down the hall in the opposite direction. He pauses once he reaches the main stairwell and glances over his shoulder.

“Thanks for being here, Jack.”

And Jack feels like that’s about more than the beers that are probably in an ice bucket on the coffee table by now. Only he can’t say that he gets it without saying that he’s thankful too. So, he nods because anything else would sound too much like he has to be here, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than here.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
